Saturday, May 12, 2001
Every time Abednego thought things had settled in to something like normalcy, they shifted again. He thought he’d stopped getting comfortable with things, just to find that he was dumped on his tail all over again.
Rafe couldn’t settle on what he wanted. He would pet Abednego for a few minutes, then shift away guiltily, give him an order and then tell him it wasn’t an order.
Saturdays and Sundays were the worst, and this time Rafe had gone through the cycle five times in less than an hour. When Abednego found himself wishing for his corner and rules that, if horrible, at least made sense, he sat up straight, shaking off another cycle of petting. Continue reading
Sunday, April 15, 2001
Abednego shifted back and forth on the couch. His heart had stopped aching; his… everything had stopped hurting, thanks to the blue pills and a few days of doing absolutely nothing, although he was going to have to learn to walk all over again.
They were all staring at him. It was the first day he’d been up and around, and every single one of the people in the suite were staring at him.
No, he realized, Zeke was staring at Joff. Which kind of made sense. Joff was acting weirder than normal.
Abednego scooted back on the couch, although it didn’t really work. His knees — his everything — went all in the wrong directions now. “Say something?” He meant it as a plea. It made everyone jump. Continue reading
Saturday, April 7, 2001
He woke next to Rafe.
He did, sometimes. More often these days than before. He’d looked at Rafe and said, more honestly than he’d really wanted to be, “I hate sleeping on the floor. It’s cold, and it’s hard, and the dog bed is even worse. Do you think I could sleep in the bed?”
It was a trade-off, because he got to be warm, and he got to have something soft under him where he could stretch out – Addergoole must either invest in quality mattresses, or have someone somewhere in a basement muttering “Meentik Unutu mattress” over and over again, and he wouldn’t put either of those by Regine. – but he got cuddled.
Rafe, it turned out, was a cuddler. Continue reading
Thursday, March 22, 2001
The weirdest thing, Abednego thought, was that he would run into an order he didn’t remember having anymore. He’d look up to say something and remember oh, yeah. That was only lifted for Joff. I can’t speak to Eris still. Or he’d think about going to the bathroom and stop, not because there was an order, but because his entire body clenched at the idea of doing that without permission.
And weirder was the way Rafe handled it. If he said something in private, Rafe acted surprised. If he said something in public, Rafe acted horrified and embarrassed and – scared, he acted scared.
Abednego had no idea what was going on, but he could make the asshole who Owned him scared. He thought that was pretty cool, on some level. Continue reading
Wednesday, March 7, 2001
He felt like someone had cut his strings.
Worse. He felt like someone had shown him that he had a bunch of strings and a video of him being pulled around, and then dropped all the handles on the ground.
Worse still, Joff was mad at Rafe – no, furious – and had been alternately yelling at him and ignoring him for days, which made Eris on edge which meant half the furniture in the common room was broken and meant that Rafe was spending most of his time wandering around looking like a kicked puppy. Continue reading
Thursday, January 4, 2001
Abednego couldn’t help but notice the fuss on the other side of the dining hall.
He was pretty sure they noticed it in the next state (even if he was a little confused what state that might be, here underground). Arna – what had Arnbjörg been up to? She’d stomped right up to that table with the six-armed girl and her friends, just like she stomped up everywhere. Abednego had tried not to cringe, but he hadn’t bothered not watching. She was glowering at the six-armed girl and the collared boy next to him.
“What does she think she’s up to?” Eris sounded fascinated. It was the first time Eris had sounded interested in anything since Zita left. (Left. Was taken. Was “rescued”. Was gone). Abednego wasn’t sure that boded well for whatever she was interested in. Continue reading
Tuesday, November 28, 2000
“…and I don’t know what happened, Rafe, but Professor Valerian has been bending my ear for days now. What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? I’m not the one who has Dr. Caitrin asking questions, Eris, what are you doing?” Continue reading
Thursday, November 9, 2000
If Abednego could figure out what he’d done to get Rafe pleased with him, he would have taken notes, because he definitely preferred this to what had become his new norm.
He was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, reading his literature homework and taking notes – lots of notes, because Professor VanderLinden paid an uncomfortable amount of attention to him in class, something he assumed he could probably thank his brothers for, like everything else in this damned place. He was to the left of Rafe, leaning against his Keeper’s leg, finding the presence actually comforting. Continue reading
Written by Wysteria.
Zita watched her hands making dinner. She had claws now, and she loved them. A lot of the others seemed to be Changing and learning to wear a Mask as soon as possible, but Zita hadn’t. Between the shark-like teeth and the tiny (cute) claws, she felt like someday she’d be a big cat, not the kitten someone had called her on Hell Night.
Friday, October 6, 2000
Dinner, Abednego had found, was one very rare part of the day that didn’t absolutely suck.
They had dinner with the crew, which meant Rafe was around Eris and Joff, and the two of them seemed to relax him. Neither of them would really look at Abednego or say his name, but they had their own Kept, too, so he could more or less pretend they weren’t ignoring him on purpose. Continue reading