skygiants

YULETIDE! I got two incredibly fabulous Witch Week stories and I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER. :D :D :D

Which World is an futurefic where the characters regain their memories and get to actually choose what future they want and whether it has magic in it, which is right and necessary and fills me with glee. And it has Chrestomanci in! And Nirupam/Estelle, which is one of my secret dorky DWJ OTPs! The best part is that the ending fills me with ideas for like ten more fics, and if that is not an amazing Yuletide present I don't know what is.

It was the Halloween of his seventeenth year when Nirupam found the portal between worlds. This slight tear, this split in the landscape shimmered slightly, like things sometimes do on a hot summer's day. But it was not summer, it was nearly November, so Nirupam took notice.

Brush Contact is a heartbreakingly IC story about Estelle and Nirupam's first conversation - it shows us both how incredibly damaged these kids are, and how they try to cope, and the core of determination and anger that's underneath their quiet everyday frightened classroom selves. And it has all the darkness both dramatic and petty that's in the story, and all the complication, and it begins and ends with Estelle cataloguing escape routes and basically it is just amazing.

It was unusual to see Simon try to put down Nirupam in front of the class. For one thing, Nirupam was very tall; and for another, unlike Nan Pilgrim, he rarely said anything that anyone could jump on. But Simon obviously thought that he was on safe ground here. They'd all heard the story about Nirupam's family in India being witches. Probably some of the others' families were witches too, but people could at least claim to be sorry for British witches. They weren't sorry for foreign ones.

'How much is belladonna per pound?' giggled Brian Wentworth, happy that no one was picking on him for a change.

Nirupam said, 'Blood. Slavery. And murder,' in a voice that wobbled the smirks on Simon and Brian's faces. Theresa wrinkled her nose. Mr Crossley finally noticed they were talking and told everyone to shut up.

Estelle glanced at Nirupam. She wasn't used to hearing any of her classmates speak so clearly and deliberately about anything to do with witchcraft. Usually they giggled, like Simon or Theresa, or they got angrily silent, like Nan. Estelle usually joined the giggling, because she didn't want anyone to ask questions about her mum. But she'd sometimes wanted to yell that witchcraft was about imprisonment. And murder.

The server is pretty well shot, so I have decided not to try to read anything else for a bit, much as I am longing to dive into the archives. That will not be too hard, since pretty soon I am off for Chinese-buffet-and-Mel-Brooks-marathon, aka Most Classic Jewish Christmas ever, aka I Love New York City For Providing Me With These Things. I hope that all of you, those who are celebrating a holiday and those who aren't, have a marvelous day!