13 Works in Xandhìl Órecalo
Listing Works
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"At the picnic today he was wearing a dark blue shirt and later he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons because it was hot out and I could see his neck..."
Xan kept the notebook (he would have rejected the term 'diary') hidden from prying brotherly and parental eyes, under a loose panel in the wardrobe floor he'd found when he was supposed to be cleaning his room. It was originally intended to hold his research notes, like Father's, but lately he mostly wrote down things about Justen.
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Xan remembered teaching his little sister to fly.
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Sometimes fun means a night in alone.
- Words:
- 100
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Hits:
- 13
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Today Emkathon Órecalo makes her first appearance in the world as an adult, and she wants the world to know what she is.
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"Do you want to get married?"
Series
- Part 16 of Diablotin 10th Anniversary Drabbles
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Tindiir took the colour plane boy - Justen, he said his name was - back to one of the private rooms in the pleasure house, mainly because she wanted to have him to herself for a little while. Her friends were back in the main room, no doubt still giggling over her boldness in approaching him. They had all wanted to do it, but she had been the first one brave enough to give it a try. It seemed like he must be involved with the slender, pale-haired boy next to him, since he'd kissed him, but he'd gone with her willingly even so. The other boy had warned her he didn't speak much of their language, but had said with a suggestive wink that they should be able to communicate fine nevertheless. For what she had in mind, she didn't think words would be too necessary anyway.
- Words:
- 2,235
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 4
- Hits:
- 374
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He'd guessed perhaps he would be dealing with youthful heartbreak, but this was much worse. Xandhil was curled into a fetal ball on the bed, naked and sobbing, and Arek took in at a glance the fresh, blistering burns in patterns of fingerprints and lips, the singed feathers, the bruises and drying blood on his pale skin. Xan looked up at him, blue eyes ringed with red, helpless and desperate, and Arek's maternal instincts drove him to his child's side to kneel beside him and stroke his sweat-tangled hair. "Xan," he told him, "I'm here, let me help."
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Justen had been going on about this place all week - something about humanity at its most honest, and also good beer, and since his class had gotten out early he'd decided to come and see what all of the fuss was about. They did have surprisingly good ale for Pearl, but the real reason to come was to watch Justen be Justen, making friends with everyone and getting drunk with the locals and arguing and laughing, and maybe going home at the end of the day with him and leaving them all behind. Only Justen wasn't here, and maybe he was coming, and maybe he wasn't, but it was clear that the girl across from him wasn't taking too kindly to being ignored.
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Xan gets himself into trouble, and the extremity of Justen's reaction is unexpected. -
On The Perils Of Temporarily Becoming A Girl (Because Your Boyfriend Wants You To) by Nary
Diablotin
30 Mar 2012
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"You have this gift, it seems a shame not to use it once in a while."
"I've never been a girl before," Xan admitted shyly. "I don't know if I can do it right."
Justen shrugged. "Just imagine a girl you've seen before, and make yourself like that. But like you, too. A girl you."
This only made Xan more apprehensive. "Seen… where? On the street, at a party, what?"
"Naked?" Justen suggested helpfully.
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There were many aspects of fatherhood that Sanadhìl found overwhelming, and it didn’t help that the expectations were so conflicting.
- Words:
- 100
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 1
- Hits:
- 38
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Xan let the older boy in when he heard the tap at the window.
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Rhyl stormed into the parlour. "Damn it, Taz!"
His eldest brother looked up. "What did I do?"
"Oh, the usual." Rhyl flopped down angrily into a chair. "You beat me to the punch."
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It was a comfortable domestic scene: Arek was working quietly at the desk, laughing quietly to herself as she thought of new scrapes to force on the heroine of her latest novel; Dozilva had just returned from coaxing the two youngest boys into their afternoon nap, and was now listening to Sanadhil talk with quiet excitement about his latest research. In the center of the room a young boy appeared, bawling and falling instantly to his knees with a surprising amount of force, adding new pain to his general upset.