The 2023 Three Sentence Ficathon is live!!
This year, to spare poor
rthstewart's inbox, Ruth has some co-mods and the ficathon now has its own dedicated Dreamwidth community:
threesentenceficathon.
Here is the information post.
Here is the first ficathon post (now closed for new prompts, but still open for fills!), and
here is the second ficathon post. The ficathon started on January 13, and will remain open for new prompts through February 12.
Anyway, here's my second set of fills:
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( 7. ) For
scytale, in response to the prompt:
The Darkangel Trilogy, Aeriel&/Erin, learning, written 1/13/23
A time to every purpose under heaven (180 words)
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In their first month, Erin learns that Aeriel used to be desperately ticklish behind her knees, that Aeriel wishes her new body retained that imperfection and fears what its lack may mean, and that covering her skin with kisses helps soothe that ache.
In their first year, Aeriel learns that Erin feels empty and small in the face of Aeriel's burden, that Erin has a knack for gears and screws and soldering wands, and that even the pearlstuff will fall silent and cease its complaints if she holds her ground and brings her love into the great work as an equal partner.
In their first lives, Erin and Aeriel learn how to be two women who each can stand alone against the world, but who choose to shape themselves around another instead; and when at last the pearlstuff deems their task complete and Aeriel pours it into the spring at the heart of Crystalglass so all who drink may gain a whisper of Ancient truth, when they depart as flames for deep heaven, they are ready to learn anew, together.
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( 8. ) For
elementalraven, in response to the prompt:
Narnia, Mabel Kirke, the apple has strange effects on Mabel, written 1/13/23
Third Eye (235 words)
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Mabel Kirke never told anyone about her dreams' turn toward the fantastical -- flocks of winged horses filling the sky from horizon to horizon; four children wandering through a cruel and endless winter in overlarge coats; a dragon bending its neck and swearing allegiance to a bewildered knight; an underground city foundering beneath a great wave; a dozen women made of petals and gems and water and leaves dancing together in a sunlit field; a small ship with the gilded prow sailing through a sea of lilies; a dozen beasts of all sizes and species gathered around a table and arguing like men -- for surely they were nothing more than an aftereffect of her illness, perhaps a lesion left on her brain by the cruel pressure of the tumor before the cancer miraculously began to shrink and wash away.
Nonetheless, the scenes were vivid in her mind's eye, and she committed several to canvas between her more serious works; in her will, she specified that they should be sold at auction and all proceeds be given to her son's great friend Polly Plummer, who had become nearly as close as her own daughter might have been, had Mabel's health permitted more than a single child.
How, many years later, one of those paintings came into the possession of someone on good terms with Harold and Alberta Scrubb, is a tale I shall leave for another day.
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( 9. ) For
scytale, in response to the prompt:
The Darkangel Trilogy, Irrylath, kingship, written 1/14/23
in the chillest land, and on the strangest sea (220 words)
Content note: Reference to Oriencor's abuse of Irrylath.-----
Irrylath barely remembers his father the king; instead, his models of power are his two mothers: the one who bore him and the one who stole him.
Oriencor's example is a litany of things to shun -- do not be capricious, do not assume all places and people exist for your pleasure and convenience, do not lay the land to waste -- but he spent his time in Isternes planning war and clinging to the barest thread of hope that he might not drown in the black pit he dug for himself to please his mother, his lover, his goddess who locked his heart in lead and promised to drink his soul to take his pain away; he did not study how Syllva ruled, and she will not leave her city to guide him and Sabr as they take their first steps into the fragile dream of Avaric reborn.
"Stay and tell me how our mother would govern?" he asks his brothers as the warhost finish the feasting and funerals beside the mere, and begin the slow return to their several lands; and though he dares not depend on ties of blood, and made no effort to befriend this unlooked-for late-come family, perhaps there is more to life than despair and grim resignation, for the answer to his plea is, simply, yes.
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( 10. ) For
loveandrockmusic, in response to the prompt:
Narnia, Mrs. Beaver and Reepicheep, she sews him a debonair costume, written 1/14/23
Gaily bedight, a gallant knight (150 words)
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"You're already wearing a belt for your sword -- a sash and a cloak aren't
that much more fabric," Mrs. Beaver said, fixing the newly-arrived Mouse with a stern gaze. "One must be properly attired for court, after all, and if paying respect to King Frank, Queen Helen, and Aslan himself isn't argument enough to convince you, consider the many secondary uses of a cloak, such as laying it across mud puddles to keep a lady's paws clean, wrapping it around your forearm as a makeshift shield, or simply letting it catch the wind or swirl artistically around your ankles -- I've never yet known a knight who didn't love swishing about dramatically, and I doubt you'll be the first exception."
"A fair touch on all points, my lady," said the Mouse, and he swept her an elaborate bow that would look much better as soon as she finished his new cloak.
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( 11. ) For
anonymous, in response to the prompt:
Any, any, accidental cat acquisition, written 1/14/23
A Conspiracy of Kittens (225 words)
Fandom = Greenwing & Dart (Victoria Goddard)-----
The first batch of kittens, I was quite willing to accept as an accident -- Mr. Moo needed to dispose of them, I happened to be at hand, and he trusted I would find them good homes. That this involved holding up a coach in the middle of the Arguty Forest was merely a logical consequence of Mr. Moo's profession, for a man engaged in the wild lay is just as unlikely to come into town on an everyday basis as a respectable gentleman is to go tramping about in a forest notoriously filled with outlaws and other disreputable souls.
The second batch of kittens was somewhat more suspect, though again, it wasn't illogical for Mr. Moo to encounter me on the outskirts of the Arguty Manor grounds, nor for a highwayman to abscond with all the luggage in a fancy coach and only belatedly discover that one box contained a heavily pregnant cat wearing a collar set with diamonds (naturally he did not hand over the collar along with the cats), and I duly found this set of kittens good homes among my father's former military companions.
However, when Mr. Moo knocked on the door of Elderflower Books with a mewing, squirming satchel in his arms and had the cheek to grin at my astonished cry, I was certain that some new conspiracy was afoot.
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( 12. ) For
anonymous, in response to the prompt:
Any, any, detective and thief AU, written 1/14/23
Two Roads Converged (245 words)
Fandom = Greenwing & Dart (Victoria Goddard)-----
"What could possibly bring such an august personage as the Lady Jessamine's own daughter, swiftly becoming famous in her own right for dismantling the Indrillines' criminal empire, to a quiet backwater like Ragnor Bella?" the young man asked after rising from an elaborate bow and resettling his plumed tricorner hat atop his neatly queued brown hair.
His manners would have been more convincing had he not been wearing a mask over his upper face and standing beside Violet's coach with a bloodstained sword only just withdrawn from her driver's shoulder, but Violet chose to take his question at face value: "Rumors of cults to the Dark Kings, assorted long-lost heirs popping out of the woodwork, and a new criminal element extending tendrils out of the Arguty Forest toward both Ronderell and Chare," she said dryly; "Dare I hope that you might be in a position to answer some of my own questions in turn?"
"Alas, I must disappoint," the masked man said with a swift grin, "but I will leave you with two pieces of advice: first, the Viscount St. Noire is hosting a dinner party the evening after next, to which I'm certain you will be extended an invitation and where you may gather all manner of fascinating gossip; and second, that I recommend Elderflower Books off the market square most highly as a haven for all whose tastes run toward adventure -- you may tell Mrs. Etaris that her former clerk sends his regards."
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More to follow!
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