jana_denardo

A Winter’s Day Off
By Jana Denardo
Author’s Note - This was written for the 12 days of ficmas challenge and for the word of the month challenge (the word being hat and the supernatural beings being a werewolf, a vampire and a druid-magic user).
XXX

“I’m going to say it again, it’s our day off. We never get days off. We should be home, in front of the fire doing stuff to make Aphrodite happy,” Jason grumbled, stomping along the snow-covered ‘Granny’ pathway winding along Ash Cave’s lower rim. Faolan preferred actual woodland paths but at this time of year, he couldn’t quibble about taking the paved path. The fact he had actually cajoled Jason out into the woods for a late afternoon hike was a miracle in and of itself, and he’d probably have to do a lot of things to ‘make Aphrodite happy’ to make it up to the vampire.

“It’s a beautiful day out,” Faolan said, even though it was a lie. It was so grey and sunless Jason didn’t even need sunblock and an umbrella to be outside without a problem.

“You lie worth shit,” Jason replied, rubbing his arms. Faolan doubted he could possibly be that cold. He had on his ‘big coat,’ snow boots, snowmobiling, negative degrees rated gloves that he’d gotten Goddess knew where, a Steelers hat pulled down to his sunglasses – not that he needed them- and the Doctor Who scarf Faolan had given him wrapped all the way up to his nose.

“Vampires, do they ever stop bitching?” Derrek asked, happily striding along next to them. Faolan wasn’t sure the werewolf was any happier being out in the cold park until he saw how miserable it was making the hot-blooded Jason. Faolan swore they lived to torment each other. He also swore he was the only sane one in this threesome.

“Shut up, furball.”

“Bite me, if you can get your fangs past all those layers of scarf,” Derrek replied, putting a hand out to against a hemlock’s trunk for balance as his boot skidded.

Faolan tugged down his tousle cap in Star Trek blue, complete with Spock ears, that his grandmother had crocheted for him. Maybe if he got it down over his ears far enough, it would muffle their bickering. Doubtful. He’d probably hear them even if someone cast a deafness spell on him. He fingered his ever-present magic wand riding in his coat pocket. Maybe he should cast one on himself. No, then he’d miss the subtle sounds of winter birds and animals as they strolled on toward Ash Cave. Maybe he could cast a mute spell on them.

“Besides, you know how druids are better than me,” Derrek continued. “You’ve been with him way longer. You knew Faolan was coming out here with or without us.”

Jason huffed, saying nothing because he knew it was true. Faolan was glad they came for all their bickering. He wanted to share this part of his life with them. He loved nature. What Druid didn’t? He knew they might never see the cycle of the seasons in the way he did, but of the two, Derrek would come closer. Werewolves were all about their senses. Derrek was more aware of the squirrels, chipmunks and foxes that might be scampering about than Faolan was. Jason was more the ‘this winter shit needs a glass of wine while I read by the fire’ type, when he wasn’t doing Aphrodite things by said fire.

“I did want to see the frozen waterfall. You have to admit, that’s going to be something to behold,” Faolan said.

“Want to know what else is frozen? Jason jabbed a finger toward his belt line. “I’m expected it to be warmed up properly.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll cant a heating vent that,” Faolan replied, smirking. Derrek brayed with laughter, startling something that crashed through the underbrush.

“No respect, that’s all I get.” Jason seemed to sink even deeper into his coat as they rounded the bend, and the horseshoe shaped shell of the recess cave came into view.

Faolan paused for a moment, taking in the distant view. Snow clung to the sandstone hollow and dusted the staircase leading up to the higher rim. Normally, he’d take that path back but it probably wasn’t safe. It did have something of a drop down halfway back to the parking lot. He could hear the trickle of water from the creek above.

Even Jason and Derrek stopped their bickering when they spotted the vista. Faolan snapped several photos of the cave and creek from this distance and one of his lovers framed by the snowy cliff-side. Together they walked down to the small beach that thrust its way into Ash Cave. From the lip of the cliff, long daggers of ice dangled like the sword of Damocles. One was more pillar than dagger. Another pillar thrust up from the ground like some giant candle complete with melted wax appearance. Between the two pillars some of the water fell, still liquid.

“Okay, so it is worth seeing,” Jason said, slipping an arm around Faolan’s waist.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Faolan murmured, entranced as he always was when he visited here in winter.

“Yeah,” Derrek said, edging closer to the ice stalagmite.

Faolan peeled off his gloves and touched the pillar of ice then cupped them upwards, letting the frigid water trickle through his fingers as he said a little prayer. He dried his hands on his wool pea coat, pulled the gloves back on before wielding his camera again. He knew he couldn’t capture the true beauty of it but he’d try. After capturing the panoramic views, he went to macro views and slowly realized he was working in silence.

Glancing around he spotted Jason and Derrek deeper into the cave recess kissing against the stone wall. That was about the only time they were ever quiet. He caught several photos of that before they realized what he was up to and drew him into their embrace and their fiery kisses. All were in agreement it was too damn cold for more than kisses. Faolan reluctantly said goodbye to Ash Cave and her wintery veil of ice and snow.

Derrek suddenly sat on a large flat rock, kicking off his boots. Jason eyed him then snorted. “Wolves, none of them are right.”

“Shut up.” Derrek hurriedly stripped, his jewels acting like any human’s – retreating up for warmth. “Carry my stuff!”

With that he began to shift. Faolan distributed the discarded clothing between him and Jason. He had to say Derrek’s fur looked too luxurious to not stroke so he gave his lover a pet. Derrek barked then raced for the creek. He skidded out onto the frozen section, ran around like he was on the dog track then started loping down the path. Dropping Derrek’s clothing, Jason stooped and made a half-hearted snowball before whipping it at Derrek. The werewolf leaped up, catching it in his mouth, making happy dog sounds.

Jason snorted and scooped up the clothing again, wagging his head. “Wolves, they just are so weird.”

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a nice warm coat of fur.” Faolan grinned, a little jealous himself.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Jason reached out and took Faolan’s hand. He tugged Faolan in for a kiss, and then walked back toward the car, still holding hands.

Derrek trotted along with them with occasional forays into the underbrush after gods knew what. Faolan didn’t mind. He knew Derrek wouldn’t bring them back a squirrel as a ‘gift.’ He couldn’t deny Derrek time to play as a wolf. Werewolves needed their fur time.

“So, I have ideas for how you can thank me for freezing my balls to death out here.” Jason grinned, giving Faolan’s hand a squeeze.

“Tell me all about them.”

Faolan couldn’t wait to hear them. When it came to bedroom games, Jason always had the best ideas. It was hardly a punishment for making Jason freeze. Time to commune with nature and time to be loved on by Jason and Derrek, what better way could there be to spend a day off?

The Mari Lwyd
By Jana Denardo

Author’s note. This is set in my Kept Tears universe. You can find Kept Tears Here
XXX

Aaron nestled into the couch listening to Bryn and Bron bantering back and forth. Rhys’s twins had arrived in town for Christmas. He didn’t think they had any hint of Christian faith being fae, but they liked the lights and the gifts and all the parties. He didn’t mind when they came to town, the centuries old Tylwyth Teg twins were amusing. He enjoyed spending time with them.

That said, he’d rather spend the night with Rhys alone. Ah well, there would be other nights. Rhys spent most of his life isolated from his own kind, his family, as one of the guardians of humanity. Aaron could hardly begrudge him a family visit. Besides, the twins had centuries worth of stories about their father. He couldn't get enough of those.

Someone knocked on Rhys's door. As Rhys was busy getting drinks, Aaron levered himself up to go answer it. One day, when it came to dealing with the fey, maybe he'd learn to curve his helpful nature, but that day wasn't today so here he stood, staring at a horse's skull grinning toothily at him.

Aaron slammed the door shut, leaning on it, the servos in his prosthetic hand whining as he splayed his hand against the wood. "Rhys!"

"What?" he called merrily from his station at the makeshift bar he had set up in the corner of his living room.

"There’s a goddamn horse's skull on a skeletal body wearing a cape with a bunch of strange people behind it." He couldn't keep the slightly hysterical note out of his tone.

"Brilliant," Bryn cried, popping up off the couch.

"The Mari Lewd. It's been ages since one of them has shown up,” Bron added.

Aaron pressed his forehead against the door. He should have realized they'd know what the hell was going on. There were days he wondered if he had suffered more brain trauma than he thought when he lost his arm and nearly his leg after his transport was hit during the war. It would explain his complete love for Rhys despite the fact he was fae and had so much accompanying weirdness swirling around him.

"What is the Mari Lwyd?" Aaron said, stumbling a bit over the strange name.

"The Grey Mare, it's a Christmas tradition in parts of Wales, and you know that's where my kind once held sway," Rhys replied, striding toward the door with his sons.

He flung the door open. This time Aaron could see the horse skull held a bell in its jaw. Behind it were several humans but somehow, he doubted the colorfully clothed men and women were remotely human. He knew the fae hide their otherness on this plane.

The horse's skull nodded, ringing its bell while the others sang. “Wel dyma ni'n dwad. Gyfeillion diniwad. I ofyn am gennod i ganu. Os na chawn ni gennad. Rhowch wybod ar ganiad. Pa fodd mae'r 'madawiad, nos heno.”

Aaron had no idea what they were talking about. Was it Welsh? Some faery language? They had the same linguist roots for all he knew.

Rhys sang back, “Does genni ddim cinio. Nac arian iw gwario. I wneud i chwi roeso, nos heno.”

"It's pwnco," Bryn told Aaron.

"It's a battle of insults and rhymes," Bron added.

"Ooookay," Aaron drew out the word, still confused but what he knew of Welsh holiday traditions could hide in the dot on an I. If La Befana, the Italian Christmas witch showed up tonight too, he was out of here.

The strangers with the Mari Lwyd shot back something more in that foreign language, and the twins answered them. After several exchanges, they changed to English, so Aaron could follow.

"You can't come in. This is a game you cannot win," Rhys said, and the Mari Lwyd clattered its jawbone.

Maybe I should just go get a jump on the drinking, Aaron thought, vaguely irritated out by the whole thing. He wondered how long this battle could go on but they all seemed to be enjoying it. He wanted to consider himself open to all cultures, so Aaron tried to jump into the verbal fray. Corrine would have fared better than he.

Finally, Rhys threw his arms open wide and took a step back. "You have triumphed, enter."

The people trooped in, more than Aaron had thought had been in the hall. He thought he might recognize a few of them. He helped Rhys pour drinks while the twins fetched appetizers. Aaron turned to get a bottle of vodka and when he turned back he yelped, nearly dropping the bottle. A pallid head sat on the table and a headless body leaned against it.

"Rhys!"

"Donahue, put your damn head on,” Rhys snapped at the fae. "You remember, Donahue, right Aaron?"

Aaron nodded. Donahue the Dullahan and his damn detachable head was how he'd found out about Rhys was fae. It wasn’t any less creepy now.

"And I was putting the head on." Donahue's head said, his slack jaw rapping on the table. The Dullahan scooped it up, setting it on his shoulders where it pinked up more lifelike. "Can't drink without it."

Aaron sighed and poured him a vodka martini as the twins raced by, their glamour spells dropped, their pointed ears showing. As he handed over the drink he noticed most of the fae had abandoned the spells that made them look human.

Aaron turned to Rhys. "Am I the only human here?"

Rhys let his magic fall away. Long gold curls, delicately pointed ears and luminous eyes, Rhys was even more gorgeous without it. "Yes." He slipped his arms around Aaron, "but you're my human." He kissed Aaron.

It was corny, but Aaron's heart melted.

"Always." He leaned against Rhys. “This is the weirdest Christmas ever.”

“Oh, it’s only going to get weirder from here,” Rhys promised, caressing Aaron’s backside.

“I think I need rum, lots of rum.”

Rhys laughed, pulling up two liters of coke, knowing Aaron would want that too. “Not too much. I have plans for you later, and I need you in fighting form.”

Aaron wrapped a strand of Rhys’s long hair around one hand, “Tell me more.”

“Later. If Donahue overhears he might want to join in…or just the head.” Rhys smirked.

Aaron dropped the strand of hair. “And now that you ruined sex forever.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Rhys kissed him again. “Challenge accepted.”

“Weirdest Christmas ever,” Aaron repeated, returning the kiss. “Potential the hottest.”

“As I said, challenge accepted.”

Aaron never wanted a party to be over more but until then, he was going to make the most of the crowd of fae.’ Merry Christmas to him.

Author’s Note – the pwnco was taken from www.omniglot.com

When They Called Her Home
By Jana Denardo
Author’s Note: Written for Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge: A Title And Two Lines. The title and the opening and closing lines were chosen from the offered prompts.




XXX
Deep inside the twisting wood, there is a house, in a gully. Some might say the house would have been better at the lip of the ravine instead of down near the river. Her grandmother’s magic kept it safe from flooding. Aeleres pressed a hand to her chest, trying to stop the pain blossoming there. The rain and the birds called her home, each drop, each song a message only a witch like her could hear. Aeleres's grandmother was sick. Come home! Come home!

However, she had been studying at the Royal Academy too many miles away, even by the standards witches and wizards traveled by. Translocation had limitations. As she rested up in a bucolic way station, Aeleres felt her grandmother slip away, leaving a tatter in her soul's cloth. By the time she had enough energy built up to slip through to the gully's lip, two days had passed.

Aeleres knew her grandmother hadn't been utterly alone when her time came. Aeleres's mother lived an easy translocation away at the mouth of the river in the sprawling resort town tucked between the marshes this forest gave way to and the sea beyond. Her mother, Wenna, ever the dutiful daughter, would have ensured the funeral rites had been seen to. The logical, cold part of Aeleres wondered if her mother felt free from the burden of caring for - and being emotionally beaten up - by their family's contentious matriarch. Grandmother had been a tough, difficult woman. Woe to the person who didn't let her have her own way. Yet Aeleres loved her in spite of them constantly butting heads.

The tableau, shadowed by the emerald crowns of the forest, seemed diminished by the loss of its mistress. The large home seemed to sag a bit on its foundation as if in mourning. The yard that sprawled down to the riverbed still looked well kempt. Aeleres let her mind spin back decades to the shoe-less days racing through the grass, her silly cat at her heels until they splashed down into the shallow river, water cold and delightful.

Resting against a thick oak tree, she drank in a deep breath perfumed with loam and spring flowers. As much as running around the house had been fun, it was the deep forest that held the most special place in her heart. Aeleres had spent so much of her childhood, playing here. She could climb quick and nimble as a squirrel, always on the look out for dragons. One day she and the Robb twins had found one, no bigger than a fox. The young dragonling had played with them for years. Even now she made a trip to visit with Aeleres once a year. It wouldn't surprise her if Yevlia showed up at Grandmother's house.

Her first magicks were worked in these woods singing honey bees to complacency so she could work her little hands in to steal some of the comb. Aeleres shut her eyes, still able to taste the thick sweetness and feel the wax warm against her tongue, softening to release its treasure. Here in the dappled sunlight, acorns dropping in the autumnal breeze she had shared her first kiss with Ashwin Robb. As far as first kisses went, it was the best you could hope for but it only cemented Ashwin's suspicions he preferred kissing men. As for Aeleres, men were just as lovely as women.

Her feet found the well worn path from her childhood and carried her home. She rapped on the front door before letting herself in. Her heart clenched again when no smells of cooking greeted her nose. Whatever Grandmother's faults had been, her constant cooking wasn't among them.

"In here," her mother called.

Aeleres went past bags and boxes of her grandmother's things to find her mother in the kitchen. A kettle steamed softly on the cast iron stove. Her mother expected her to want tea. Mother knew best. Kissing her mother's cheek, Aeleres tossed more wood into the stove to bring the water up to a rolling boil and nosed about to find the tin of tea leaves. While she waited on the tea, she sat at the kitchen table with her mother.

In front of them were tea pots, glass dishes and other ornaments and cups Aeleres has never seen. She picked up a glass candy dish of pressed glass in swirls of dark blues and purples.

"It's beautiful. Where did this come from?" She set it down, gesturing to the table full of items. "Where did any of it come from?"

"In the cabinets." Her mother nodded with her chin. "She was keeping it for good. Never saw her bring it out, not for company, not for holidays. Was she waiting for? Royals?"

Aeleres snorted. "What are you going to do with it all?"

"Keep some. You can pick from it too. Your cousins might want some. Otherwise it can for sale and charity at seaside." Mother sighed, running her finger along the fluted edge of a glass fruit bowl. "I love glass but, Aeleres, never keep things for good. Make every day a holiday."

"I try."

Aeleres stood and poured the tea. She set the pot on the table. The sugar bowl was already there. "What about the house, Mom?"

"I wanted to talk to you about it."

Sitting again, Aeleres swallowed past a tight throat. "I think I'd like to stay here for a while."

Her mother blinked slowly then smiled. "I was hoping you'd want the house but you do so much work for the royals."

She waved her off. "Half the time they're just a few miles from here summering at the ocean. I can do just as much good here as I can there. If I want to go back and use the Academy's library, I can find someone to watch the house for a while."

Her mother heaved a deep sigh. "That is such a weight off."

Aeleres sipped her tea, too aware her hand shook, nearly sloshing tea onto the piles of kitchen things on the table. Her great grandmother originally had the house built while pregnant with Aeleres's grandmother. The house had stood here in the gully for a century and a year. The thought of it leaving the family made her push herself through translocation after translocation trying to get to the homestead one last time in case her mother wanted to sell it.

"We have to discuss the last ritual," Mom said. Aeleres barely nodded, not wanting to think about it, no matter how necessary it might be.

Before they could breech that delicate topic, someone entered the house. A middle-aged woman, probably a few years younger than Aeleres strode into the kitchen with a ‘Hello, Wenna that died on her lips when she saw Aeleres. She gave Aeleres a quizzical look.

Aeleres returned it. She was lovely with long black hair untouched by frost. She had strong hands that showed her age a bit in their rough skin. Coal black eyes sparkled. No, not coal. That was a dull stone. Obsidian, dark, unknowable and shining. Intelligence lurked behind those eyes, intriguing Aeleres.

“Aeleres, this is Marike, your grandmother’s nurse.”

Smiling, Aeleres stuck out her hand. “Nice to me you.”

“Your grandmother told me a lot about you.”

Aeleres couldn’t contain her smile. “Really?”

“She was quite proud of you.”

Really? Aeleres thought, seeing as she’d only heard criticism on each and every choice she’d made. If she said grass was green, Grandmother would argue. “Thank you for that.” She wanted to ask Marike why she was here but couldn’t figure out a nice way to do that.

“I really liked your grandmother so I told Wenna I’d be happy to help you pack up here. I know how hard a task that can be.” Marike’s soft smile was more comforting than a hundred tender words.

Even in her numb mourning state, Marike’s beauty wasn’t lost on Aeleres. She wanted to know more, to spend time with this woman. Having her here helping satisfied that deep, surprising need. “Thank you but don’t you have other patients.”

Marike shook her head. “I do private nursing, one patient at a time so I’m at your disposal.”

“I’m looking forward to getting to know you,” Aeleres said. “Just tell me where to start.”

“Why don’t you and Marike start emptying the curio cabinet,” her mother said.

Aeleres nodded, stepping into the dining room. She stared at the large glass-fronted cabinet. She’s forgotten Grandmother collected bells. There was nothing Aeleres wanted to collect less. “We have our work cut out for us.”

“I can’t argue that.” Marike smiled again and Aeleres’s burden lifted. She never imagined a homecoming like this.

XXX

In the week Aeleres, Marike and Wenna spent organizing her grandmother’s cluttered house, taking time to sort out the items that could be given to charity, sold or kept as heirlooms. Marike came every day, trading stories and histories with Aeleres. It might be the wrong timing but Aeleres swore she saw a spark in Marike, a connection between them that was deeper than mere friendship.

“Aeleres, bring me that box on the dining room table,” her mother called from outside.

Marike helped Aeleres lug it out. Her mother sat where the stump of the pine tree that had stood in front of the house for much of Aeleres’s life. A small bonfire consumed it. The women placed the box next to the two empty chairs at Wenna’s side.

Wenna opened it, nodding. “Crumple the papers up and toss them in.” She nodded to the fire.

“Are you sure?” Aeleres asked.

“It’s a box of receipts from butchers and grocers dating back to before even I was born.” Her mother grinned.

Aeleres snorted, sitting down, Marike taking the other chair. Before Aeleres could start wadding up paper, her mother handed her an engraved box. Her heart caught. This was the moment she was dreading. Her gaze slid sideways to Marike wondering if she should ask her to go.

“Mom, are you sure?” she asked and Marike gave her a curious look.

“My magic has never been as strong as yours and I’m already old myself. It should be yours.”

Aeleres stared into the box. Her grandmother’s heart-stone rested on the blue velvet lining, like an egg of tourmaline.

“What is it?” Marike asked.

“Crystallized magic. It’s what’s left after a witch or wizard is cremated. It’s meant to be passed on to a family member, to add to their own magic.” Aeleres stroked its surface feeling the power thrumming under its warm surface. She proffered it to her mother one last time. Wenna should have it. She was next in line.

Shaking her head, her mother lifted the stone out, pressing it against Aeleres’s chest. Aeleres cupped it, opening her defenses. The stone melted into her, loosening her muscles, sending tendrils of magic throughout her.

Her mother kissed her cheek. “Use it well.” She stood. “I have some packing to do in the library. You two can handle this.”

“Thank you for letting me see this.” Marike nodded to the empty box.

“You’re welcome. You’re my friend. I wanted you to share in it. It’s usually done with more ritual and people but we’re a bit isolated here.” Aeleres waved a hand to the woods.

“I appreciate it all the same.” Marike tossed a handful of papers on the fire. “Let me repay it by taking you to my favorite place out at the beach when we’re done here.”

Aeleres felt her nerves sing and it wasn’t all from the heart-stone's magic. “I’d love that.”

Marike took Aeleres’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Excellent.”

Aeleres squeezed back. The bonfire danced in front of them. The smoke was blue and grey and smelled like a promise.

Title - Midnight in Moonville
By Jana Denardo
Author’s Note: This was written for the Sweet & Scary Flash Fic Blog Hop. . I’m looking forward to reading the other offerings (Follow the foreamentioned link to more!) It’s not my official offering because it ended up being longer than the limit (typical for me). I set this one fairly local. In fact I was writing this one in my head while I was standing in line for over 2 hours at the event depicted here. All the characters are original though the ‘historian’ is one of my friends who was doing the historical/ghost talks at the festival. Hopefully he won’t mind too much that I’ve had a ghost toss him about. And if you’d like something a little longer for Halloween, you can check out what I wrote for Spook_Me here.





( Midnight in Moonville )

Title: The Incubus’ Tale
Author: Jana Denardo
Fandom: Lucerna Universe
Spoilers: none
Author’s Notes The Lucerna Universe is my creation. It started with Triskelion for the M/M romance goodreads group’s 2014 Love’s Landscape challenge. You can read the original here. though you have to be a member of the group to do so (like all Goodreads groups it’s free). I’ve noodled around a couple times in this universe. I wrote this one as a double challenge. One for picfor1000 challenge which is to write a story of 1000 words exactly to a picture prompt. Mine is here, though I couldn’t work in the money part (other than to mention wine’s expensive). The second challenge is for Chuck Wendig’s challenge in his Terrible Mind’s blog to write 1000 word flash fiction using one of the titles prompts he offered. You can see the details here.


( The Incubus' Tale )

Title : Gentle Night
Author: cornerofmadness
series: Athens Prophecy universe (original)
Word Count: 206
Summary : Faolan is having a sleepy, lonely night
Author’s Note : Written for 12_daysofficmas. Sorry it’s a bit rushed. Just a bit of flash fiction because I am exhausted.

XXX

( Gentle Night )

Chuck Wendig of Terrible Minds issued a flash fiction challenge here. We were to create a short scene to highlight a new character and next week anyone can use this character in a story. Sounds like a blast. Here's mine. Meet Tenaldi. I think I'll be back to claim him myself off challenge later.


Tenaldi descended into the Queen's poison garden, loving the scents washing over him. A coolness born of the lush greenery settled on his wiry frame. Tenaldi was still an apprentice green physician, only seventeen. Still he knew most of the plants. On the north face were ivys that could cause death and paralysis. In the low lands was a field of lacy flowers whose long white roots resembled a common root vegetable that made its way into many a winter stew. This white cousin could kill in minutes. On the drier eastern expanse grew fleshy, a little ugly plants whose flowers caused hallucinations, a favorite of the priests and priestess talk to those who had gone before.

He came to a stop as his long, dark hair got tangled in the branches of the Suicide tree whose fruit was popular in desserts that topped many a person's last meal. Tenaldi continued on to another stand of trees. These leaves often chewed by warriors to give them endless energy.

His mind was filled with plants that could kill at one dose and cure at another. That's what came next for Tenaldi, learning all the uses: which ones were poisonous raw but fine when cooked, which could be brewed into a delicious intoxicant, how to extract the essence of hot peppers to make ointments that relieved pain. It would be several more years of study but Tenaldi didn't mind. He had a sharp wit and the ability to remember things almost on the first try.

When I saw the prompt of "Earthquakes" for the challenge at Brynn Stein’s blog, this insisted on being written. Just FYI it's based in the Prose and Poetic Eddas, not Marvel Comics. If you're unfamiliar with the story click here (or click just to see the cool art).

( Worldquake )