Gabe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
auguris) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2012-11-20 12:41 pm
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2012-11-20 12:41 pm
Dove Grey 18; Sulphur 19; Fire Opal 12
Name: auguris
'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Beyond
Colors: Dove Grey 18. Gone where I cannot follow, until I have finished all of my days.; Sulphur 19. Forbidden knowledge; Fire Opal 12. Break down any wall
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Novelty Beads (This photo)
Word Count: 1370
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Blood and bones.
Summary: Moira and Nieve attempt to reach the other side.
The obsidian grail sat in the center of a human ribcage, freshly cleaned and gleaming. The grail was filled with a mixture of her own and Nieve's blood; the ribcage had been dug up the day before. Moira still had graveyard dirt in her fingernails.
They sat across from each other. In front of each sat a chunk of obsidian, carefully carved with symbols copied from an ancient copy of Deyjarl. Perpendicular to them sat a fist-sized pile of earth and a similar pile of ash -- kernen and alfar remains.
Moira met Nieve's eyes; the other woman nodded. She and Nieve shone in the midnight dark, their magic flowing from their bones, covering their skin. Moira closed her hand over the carved obsidian and pushed; a piece of her, not only her magic but her very self, what humans might call a 'soul', that which moved on from the body at death, which was able to travel far beyond what most could see -- a very small piece of herself filled the obsidian, lit up the carvings, and stuck.
She pulled back, and that bit of herself snapped off.
Nieve shrieked; Moira may have done the same. Her awareness slipped back and forth between her body and the obsidian: awake and alive, trapped and dead. She clutched at the pendant around her neck, the silver sword. Mitchell. Tamsin. Bright gray eyes scrunched up in laughter, thin lips scowling, fingers tapping on the dashboard, a door slamming in her face, 'let me try it on my own will you', 'don't tell me what to do!'--
Moria dropped the obsidian -- the anchor -- and scrubbed her face. Nieve stared at her.
"They're watching," Nieve muttered.
Moira took a breath to steady herself. There were eyes on them, dead eyes, peering at them from the inbetween. Did they sense what was to come? What she and Nieve were?
"Forgive us," Moira murmured. "This is the only way."
She rested her hands on her knees, palms up. She channeled her magic two ways -- one half towards the loose earth, the other towards the pile of ash. Nieve did the same opposite of her. She pushed her Sight in between, stepping beyond their own world but not quite yet into the next. Human shapes manifested around them, drawn to the obsidian anchors, to the seers -- necromancers -- deathlords -- to the magic calling them forth, a beacon shining in their half-dead bastard existence.
Her magic flowed over and around Nieve's, coalescing at two opposite points before flashing to the obsidian bowl. Their mingled blood splashed out and coated the ribcage, dotting the ground and her knees. The spirits sharpened into focus, shuddering in and out of sight and suddenly close, next to them, wailing and reaching for the obsidian.
Moira separated her self from her body and grasped the closest spirits, their deathly cold shooting up her arms. She pulled them towards her anchor and whispered, "stay."
Such a small suggestion, easy to give and easy to follow; they didn't want to go, didn't want to be dead. They clung eagerly to the bit of her life inside the obsidian, harsh whispers crashing into each other. Moira eased back into her body, swallowing air so fast she choked.
Nieve stood before she did, neither steady on their feet. Nieve grinned, magic flashing in her dark eyes.
"Nearly there."
Moira took a moment to ensure she was grounded -- she was alive, she was in her body, she was here, not there -- before drawing her power around her, up through her throat and out into her voice, "Go."
Nothing, at first, only the barely-manifested wisps swirling above the anchors, shifting and shuddering; her breath steamed as the already chill air turned to ice. Through the gathering mist she could see Nieve's scattered shimmer, could feel the other woman's eyes on her. Aside from the gathered tools and the blood on her clothes, this could have been any mass exorcism, a horrible car crash or another visit up north to aid Donat with the remains of yet another charred home and then
everything
shifted.
Their world, the physical unalterable world of the living, in one moment was steady and solid and here, and the other world, unknowable and unattainable and beyond, in that same moment clear and distant and there; and then they were not.
The ground cracked beneath her feet and she stumbled; the spirits wailed, shrieking in her ears and tearing at her and touching her and dragging at her and yanking on each other and Nieve was cackling, arms spread and head tossed back and here was there and she
stood on the shore, the Lake lapping at her feet, green grass knee-high and tickling her bare legs, sticking into her white dress. A storm gathered on the horizon. She could not answer how she knew not to be afraid. She stepped forward, water weighing down her dress, lighting flashing in the distance, black storm clouds rolling in, and she
was drowning
oh Lady no I can't leave them my babies I can't
"Moira! Moira!"
She surged forward, tumbling from Nieve's arms and spewing up mouthfuls of water and bile and scrabbling at the cement floor, strong warm arms around her shoulders and words in her ears alive alive you're alive.
Nieve helped her sit up, one arm around her middle. Moira clutched at her friend, shuddering.
"Moira, deargirl, you need to get up. We need to leave. Up, up, come." Nieve hauled her to her feet and they stumbled away, out of the abandoned morgue and up cement steps and down a wavering misting hallway and into warm summer air and she couldn't and Nieve cursed her and dragged her and they were in a car and moving and Nieve nearly shouted, what were they going to say, the Mothers would ask questions but they couldn't go to a mundane hospital for Lady's sake and everything blurred and sharpened and blurred again, until Moira put her hand on Nieve's arm and said,
"No. Just take me home."
Nieve fell silent. The car was suddenly loud, rumbling in the night. Something whined when Nieve accelerated -- Moira really needed to get it looked at, soon -- and Nieve asked,
"Are you sure, dear?"
Moira wet her lips. "I must look a wreck if you're calling me dear."
Nieve choked on wet laughter. "You look dead."
"That would do it." She pat Nieve's arm before withdrawing her hand. "I just need to see my babies."
"All right."
*
Tamsin accepted 'the exorcism went bad' without even a second look and helped Nieve wrap Moira in towels and blankets.
She hovered between sitting and standing. "Should I get the ambrosia?"
Nieve worried her lip. "I don't know. A drop, perhaps."
"Do I look so terrible?" Moira's throat hurt when she laughed. "Just tea, Tam, please."
The corner of Tamsin's mouth quirked and she left to do as she was asked.
Nieve put an arm around Moira's shoulders. "What did you see?"
Moira leaned into Nieve, so she could feel her friend tense when she answered, "Avalon."
"You... can't be serious."
Moira shrugged. "A lake. Perhaps the Lake. I only know it was... massive. A storm blew in and I was pulled down."
Nieve let out a breath. "That would explain the water."
Moira closed her eyes. Something clanked in the kitchen and Tam cursed just loud enough for Moira to catch it.
"And you?"
"A desert." Nieve sighed. "A vast, dry, empty desert."
Moira shifted so she could meet Nieve's gaze. "Were we there?"
Another shrug. "I don't know. When I came back to myself you were lying on the floor..." Nieve shook her head. "We did something, Moira, but I don't know if we moved beyond or only glimpsed it."
Moira squeezed Nieve's hand. "We're onto something, I know it."
The smile on Nieve's face said more than words could.
auguris'verse: Ghost Sight
Story: Beyond
Colors: Dove Grey 18. Gone where I cannot follow, until I have finished all of my days.; Sulphur 19. Forbidden knowledge; Fire Opal 12. Break down any wall
Supplies and Styles: Canvas, Novelty Beads (This photo)
Word Count: 1370
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Blood and bones.
Summary: Moira and Nieve attempt to reach the other side.
The obsidian grail sat in the center of a human ribcage, freshly cleaned and gleaming. The grail was filled with a mixture of her own and Nieve's blood; the ribcage had been dug up the day before. Moira still had graveyard dirt in her fingernails.
They sat across from each other. In front of each sat a chunk of obsidian, carefully carved with symbols copied from an ancient copy of Deyjarl. Perpendicular to them sat a fist-sized pile of earth and a similar pile of ash -- kernen and alfar remains.
Moira met Nieve's eyes; the other woman nodded. She and Nieve shone in the midnight dark, their magic flowing from their bones, covering their skin. Moira closed her hand over the carved obsidian and pushed; a piece of her, not only her magic but her very self, what humans might call a 'soul', that which moved on from the body at death, which was able to travel far beyond what most could see -- a very small piece of herself filled the obsidian, lit up the carvings, and stuck.
She pulled back, and that bit of herself snapped off.
Nieve shrieked; Moira may have done the same. Her awareness slipped back and forth between her body and the obsidian: awake and alive, trapped and dead. She clutched at the pendant around her neck, the silver sword. Mitchell. Tamsin. Bright gray eyes scrunched up in laughter, thin lips scowling, fingers tapping on the dashboard, a door slamming in her face, 'let me try it on my own will you', 'don't tell me what to do!'--
Moria dropped the obsidian -- the anchor -- and scrubbed her face. Nieve stared at her.
"They're watching," Nieve muttered.
Moira took a breath to steady herself. There were eyes on them, dead eyes, peering at them from the inbetween. Did they sense what was to come? What she and Nieve were?
"Forgive us," Moira murmured. "This is the only way."
She rested her hands on her knees, palms up. She channeled her magic two ways -- one half towards the loose earth, the other towards the pile of ash. Nieve did the same opposite of her. She pushed her Sight in between, stepping beyond their own world but not quite yet into the next. Human shapes manifested around them, drawn to the obsidian anchors, to the seers -- necromancers -- deathlords -- to the magic calling them forth, a beacon shining in their half-dead bastard existence.
Her magic flowed over and around Nieve's, coalescing at two opposite points before flashing to the obsidian bowl. Their mingled blood splashed out and coated the ribcage, dotting the ground and her knees. The spirits sharpened into focus, shuddering in and out of sight and suddenly close, next to them, wailing and reaching for the obsidian.
Moira separated her self from her body and grasped the closest spirits, their deathly cold shooting up her arms. She pulled them towards her anchor and whispered, "stay."
Such a small suggestion, easy to give and easy to follow; they didn't want to go, didn't want to be dead. They clung eagerly to the bit of her life inside the obsidian, harsh whispers crashing into each other. Moira eased back into her body, swallowing air so fast she choked.
Nieve stood before she did, neither steady on their feet. Nieve grinned, magic flashing in her dark eyes.
"Nearly there."
Moira took a moment to ensure she was grounded -- she was alive, she was in her body, she was here, not there -- before drawing her power around her, up through her throat and out into her voice, "Go."
Nothing, at first, only the barely-manifested wisps swirling above the anchors, shifting and shuddering; her breath steamed as the already chill air turned to ice. Through the gathering mist she could see Nieve's scattered shimmer, could feel the other woman's eyes on her. Aside from the gathered tools and the blood on her clothes, this could have been any mass exorcism, a horrible car crash or another visit up north to aid Donat with the remains of yet another charred home and then
everything
shifted.
Their world, the physical unalterable world of the living, in one moment was steady and solid and here, and the other world, unknowable and unattainable and beyond, in that same moment clear and distant and there; and then they were not.
The ground cracked beneath her feet and she stumbled; the spirits wailed, shrieking in her ears and tearing at her and touching her and dragging at her and yanking on each other and Nieve was cackling, arms spread and head tossed back and here was there and she
stood on the shore, the Lake lapping at her feet, green grass knee-high and tickling her bare legs, sticking into her white dress. A storm gathered on the horizon. She could not answer how she knew not to be afraid. She stepped forward, water weighing down her dress, lighting flashing in the distance, black storm clouds rolling in, and she
was drowning
oh Lady no I can't leave them my babies I can't
"Moira! Moira!"
She surged forward, tumbling from Nieve's arms and spewing up mouthfuls of water and bile and scrabbling at the cement floor, strong warm arms around her shoulders and words in her ears alive alive you're alive.
Nieve helped her sit up, one arm around her middle. Moira clutched at her friend, shuddering.
"Moira, deargirl, you need to get up. We need to leave. Up, up, come." Nieve hauled her to her feet and they stumbled away, out of the abandoned morgue and up cement steps and down a wavering misting hallway and into warm summer air and she couldn't and Nieve cursed her and dragged her and they were in a car and moving and Nieve nearly shouted, what were they going to say, the Mothers would ask questions but they couldn't go to a mundane hospital for Lady's sake and everything blurred and sharpened and blurred again, until Moira put her hand on Nieve's arm and said,
"No. Just take me home."
Nieve fell silent. The car was suddenly loud, rumbling in the night. Something whined when Nieve accelerated -- Moira really needed to get it looked at, soon -- and Nieve asked,
"Are you sure, dear?"
Moira wet her lips. "I must look a wreck if you're calling me dear."
Nieve choked on wet laughter. "You look dead."
"That would do it." She pat Nieve's arm before withdrawing her hand. "I just need to see my babies."
"All right."
*
Tamsin accepted 'the exorcism went bad' without even a second look and helped Nieve wrap Moira in towels and blankets.
She hovered between sitting and standing. "Should I get the ambrosia?"
Nieve worried her lip. "I don't know. A drop, perhaps."
"Do I look so terrible?" Moira's throat hurt when she laughed. "Just tea, Tam, please."
The corner of Tamsin's mouth quirked and she left to do as she was asked.
Nieve put an arm around Moira's shoulders. "What did you see?"
Moira leaned into Nieve, so she could feel her friend tense when she answered, "Avalon."
"You... can't be serious."
Moira shrugged. "A lake. Perhaps the Lake. I only know it was... massive. A storm blew in and I was pulled down."
Nieve let out a breath. "That would explain the water."
Moira closed her eyes. Something clanked in the kitchen and Tam cursed just loud enough for Moira to catch it.
"And you?"
"A desert." Nieve sighed. "A vast, dry, empty desert."
Moira shifted so she could meet Nieve's gaze. "Were we there?"
Another shrug. "I don't know. When I came back to myself you were lying on the floor..." Nieve shook her head. "We did something, Moira, but I don't know if we moved beyond or only glimpsed it."
Moira squeezed Nieve's hand. "We're onto something, I know it."
The smile on Nieve's face said more than words could.
no subject
I love the description of the ritual. Very evocative and creepy!
no subject
Thank you!
no subject
no subject